


Lethal Combination

by elegantrivalsau



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Organized Crime, Partners to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantrivalsau/pseuds/elegantrivalsau
Summary: Three years ago, Clarke made an impulsive mistake that killed two of her favorite people. Now she's stuck to a life of crime. Kane is set on destroying his rival, gang leader Charles Pike, and Clarke has become one of his top four agents. Their plans had been running fairly smoothly until Bellamy learned something that shattered his world and focus. Even with complications, Clarke would being lying if she said she didn't like being Bellamy's partner in crime.this is my first fic and i'm really excited to see where it goes. i strongly recommend you listen to my song recommendations, as some lines are taken directly from lyrics. First, listen to "Lethal Combination" by The Wombats which inspired this fic.thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Josephine Lightbourne/Gabriel Santiago | Xavier, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Gabriel Santiago | Xavier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	1. Greek Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> First song: "Greek Tragedy" by The Wombats  
> -  
> His gaze snapped to hers. “I wasn’t crying.”
> 
> “You were.”
> 
> Their stares stayed locked on one another’s. Blue to brown. A dangerous line to walk.

Clarke laughed to herself in disbelief as she swirled her brush through the paints. Three years already? She shook her head a little bit but her stupid smile wouldn’t go away.

Forcing herself to refocus, she inspected the color she had blended. She added a little bit more yellow. No, too honey-like. A little golder? Still too much yellow. A tinge more of chestnut turned the paint the perfect toasted shade.

Clarke touched her brush to the paper and began to create the shape of a sturdy jawline and powerful, clever fingers that were expert at cracking safes. Some more chestnut and a few strokes later, she had added perfect definition. Clarke set the shade aside for the hair highlights in her next picture, one of Raven. She dipped her brush in white for highlights on that sturdy jaw and those clever hands.

Once she finished the details on the skin, including a handsome face featuring full lips and dark, worried eyes, she moved onto the winding brown curls. Defining the lines between curls had always been a struggle for Clarke, but they had to be perfect in this painting. Not for anyone else, but just for her. A hint of pride swelled in her chest at the sight of the final curls.

Then she moved onto the shiny black clothes for stealth and the silver lockpicks. After finishing those, the only detail left was the black mask discarded on the floor in the very corner. To most, it would appear an insignificant piece, but it meant so much to Clarke. She could still feel the texture of it under her fingers as she tugged it off his face, seeing the surprise on his face, and that underlying sense that her life had changed forever.

Looking at her final work, Clarke was transported right back into that day exactly three years ago.

_Her mom would not stop rambling on about something or other, but Clarke had gotten lost in thought. Her mind stayed in the Starbucks parking lot. Something about that man who had held the door for them had thrown her off. Something besides the fact that he was stupidly handsome. Clarke, of course, had gone home and needed to sketch him immediately._

_However, her parents had other things in mind. Family dinner was very important to them, and the Jahas were coming over that night. Clarke could not pass up the chance to spend an evening with her absolute favorite people. After dinner, Clarke, her father, and the Jaha men would watch football. They would spend the whole evening laughing together. Then Clarke and Wells, who was her childhood best friend, would go hang out on the porch and talk about everything going on in their lives. Uni made their lives plenty busy and they spent most of their time together at these weekly dinners._

_Wells and his father had left around midnight that night. Usually Clarke would collapse into bed right away. But she hadn’t drawn that unnerving man from the Starbucks yet, and she had to. His curls, his dark eyes, his freckles, his smooth skin and the odd scar on his neck that marred it._

_She slipped on her headphones and flipped her sketchbook for charcoal open, prepared for a sleepless night of work. Around four or five in the morning, she finished a rough rendition of the man. Falling back against her pillow with tired eyes, she took off her headphones and played “Sweater Weather” by The Neighbourhood at a low volume right from her phone._

_Something cracked and shuffled outside, but an exhausted Clarke thought nothing of it. In fact, a fully alert Clarke would have thought nothing of it at that time in her life. Though when her window opened outwards with a soft pop, she sat up fast enough to see stars. A head of dark curls with a black mask peeked over the windowsill._

_The person’s eyes widened through the small openings in their mask, but they climbed in regardless of any surprise. Clarke’s breaths came quickly at uneven intervals. She was frozen. A man in all black had just climbed through her window in the middle of the night. She needed to call for help, but she couldn’t. As the man reached forward and snatched up her open sketchbook with a gloved hand, the words died in her throat._

_A sudden, terrifying idea came to Clarke. The man had sat down on her floor, staring at her sketch. While he was distracted, Clarke lunged forwards to test her theory. His flimsy mask came off easily. She tossed it aside and stared right at his handsome face. The same face in her sketch below. It was the man from Starbucks._

_“Were you scouting me out to come break into my house?” she asked in a furious whisper. The man appeared to be trying to form words, but said nothing. He only looked down at the gun in his belt, then back up at Clarke’s face._

_And then another terrifying conclusion hit Clarke. Now that she had seen this man’s face, she either had to die, or--_

_No. No “or”. This wasn’t a crime show. He would kill her, and that was that. It didn’t seem he wanted to, but he probably didn’t want to be caught either. “I won’t report you to the police,” Clarke told him. “If you leave me alone, I won’t say anything. No one has to know this ever happened.”_

_After a few minutes, the man whispered. “My name is Bellamy.” So he gave her his name. He was definitely going to kill her. “But I didn’t come here to kill you. I came to steal from your parents. Though my job seems to have changed.”_

_Clarke narrowed her eyes at Bellamy. “To what?”_

_“What do you know about organized crime?”_

Three years since that chilling night. Clarke regretted many, many of her actions since that night. But she did not regret what she told Bellamy. When she agreed to work for Kane, became one of his agents. And agreed to become Bellamy’s partner in crime.

Someone knocked at her door, startling her into knocking a few paint-filled brushes onto the floor. Not that it mattered. Kane had given her this extra closet just for painting. He knew she needed it to cope with some of the things she had done to save everyone’s lives.

Another knock. “Clarke? Planning time.”

“I’m coming, Bellamy, I’ll just be a minute.” Bellamy grumbled something and wandered off. Clarke covered all her glass jars of paints and put all her brushes back into the water glass. In front of her vintage mirror, splattered with loads of paint over time, she untied her smock and brushed her unruly blond waves out of her face.

Bellamy, as it turned out, had not wandered off. He leaned against the peeling wallpaper in the hallway, staring off into space. The corner of his mouth twitched up a bit when he saw Clarke emerge from her “studio”, aka private painting closet. “I haven’t seen you all day so far, Clarke. Have you been hiding from me?”

“Of course not. I had some painting that needed done,” Clarke replied, brushing past him and starting down the chilly stairs.

Bellamy pushed off the wall and followed her to the kitchen where Murphy, Raven, and Kane sat around the circle table. Clarke sat down beside Raven and Bellamy sat down between her and Murphy. He leaned forwards so he could look Clarke in the eyes. “Well? Happy three years, Princess.”

Murphy snorted. “Happy three years since you got distracted and she accidentally messed up the rest of her life.”

“I could go to the police any day if I wanted, Murphy. It’s not Bellamy’s fault that I’m still here.”

“It’s his fault you’re alive.” Clarke and Raven burst out in laughter at Murphy’s comment, Murphy quickly joining them, but Kane seemed unamused. Bellamy crossed his arms and scowled, leaning back in his chair. But he couldn’t stop a smile from creeping across his face.

They dug into the waffles Kane had made them as he began the debriefing. Clarke watched as Bellamy dumped buckets of whipped topping over his strawberry pile. She stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes in return.

“Tonight there will be a party at the Lightbourne mansion. Tensions will be running high, seeing as high ranking members of all kinds of gangs were invited. Azgeda, Trikru, Eligus, the Primes, Skaikru, etc.”

Excitement glinted in Raven’s clever eyes. “Which makes it the perfect time to sneak in and crack the safe we’ve been discussing.”

Kane nodded. “Exactly. There will be four cards: two keycards necessary for escape, one with plans, and one that unlocks another safe with some information on Skaikru. Tonight you four will be attending as innocent guests, along with Roma and Atom. Miller and Monty will be going undercover with Skaikru as they have been doing. Which is why you will be heading down to the House for the rest of the plan. Raven will talk you through.”

Bellamy, who was on dish duty for the day, leaned over the table to collect their dirty breakfast dishes. Murphy, who was blocked by Bellamy’s exposed stomach from his reach, grumbled, “I hate the House.”

“You only hate it because the people there don’t all know you, which means they have no reason to hate you, which means you feel guilty for lashing out at them,” Raven reasoned. She tugged on Murphy’s arm and he groaned, but rose nonetheless. Bellamy jogged after them and Kane towards the stairs, Clarke on his heels. Down into the dust they went.

The space provided for Kane and his top four agents--Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, and Murphy--was quite nice. Equipped with a fully stocked kitchen, five bedrooms, a telly in the sitting room, and two bathrooms, anyone in the House would kill for it. And they had tried on multiple occasions.

Which Clarke couldn’t blame them for whenever she was in the House. The wooden warehouse was lined with bulb lights on a string and the furniture was all picnic tables and ify sofas. The one large kitchen could be used for recreation but was meant to make mass dinners for all the other agents and officers. Two stories of rooms lined the left wall of the open space. The top ones were nicer despite the climb up some rickety stairs, so they were mostly occupied by officers. A pointless walkway wrapped around the warehouse about halfway up the wall to intercept all the stairs.

Today, the floor teemed with activity. Clarke immediately spotted Harper kissing Monty on the cheek while he grinned bashfully by the strategizing table. Raven bounded over to chat details with them. Murphy plopped down on a couch nearby so he could listen without participating. Clarke meant to hang back and let them all settle in so she could wander a bit first. Her mind had been cloudy when she woke, and a clear head would be necessary for tonight.

But Bellamy hung back too.

He matched her stare at the other agents and tucked his hands in his pockets. “You excited for tonight? I can tell you’re cloudy.” Tapping the side of his head, he cast her a brief smile. “You need to be all clear up here.”

Clarke didn’t look at him, but the corners of her mouth lifted a bit. She cast a wistful glance at the crowded bar in the corner where Jasper was undoubtedly mixing up moonshine. “Not when we get back I won’t be. Want to get blind?”

“Whatever the hell you want, Princess. Let’s go planning.”

***

Hours of strategizing later, Clarke found herself numb and looking in the mirror. Tonight she donned an off-the-shoulder dress with an antebellum waistline and mid-calf length skirt. The dress was lovely, and Harper had done an amazing job with her pinned-up hair, but Clarke could only see how worn out she felt.

Their last job, a partner mission, had really taken everything from her for the next week. She didn’t even like to think about it. But she couldn’t help but see flashes of it occasionally. Her shoes falling deep below in darkness, blood trickling out of the corner of Bellamy’s mouth, a broken clock on the floor. Bellamy refused to leave his room for three days afterwards while he and Clarke healed. He opened the door to her for food and alcohol. Clarke could tell he had been either sobbing, screaming, or punching something most times. But sometimes he sat completely still and silent. He did it occasionally, and it always scared the hell out of her.

That Azgeda woman--Echo, Clarke recalled--had told him something that had struck deep. He refused to say what.

Clarke tried to clear her head again. Since it clearly wasn’t happening, she left to wait in the sitting room for Bellamy. Raven and Murphy had left an hour ago. Monty and Miller should already be inside, and Atom and Roma would leave an hour later.

Bellamy leaned on the frame of the archway between the sitting room and kitchen area. He looked ridiculously gorgeous. Like a god straight from his mythology books, Clarke thought. His curls were messy in a charming way, and his dark fitted suit--the same color as Clarke’s dress--displayed his muscles and highlighted his coloring perfectly. Clarke had always thought midnight blue was her color, but no, it was most certainly his.

Even as Clarke approached, Bellamy remained unnervingly silent with his eyes fixed out the windows. He was doing the still-as-a-statue thing again. As she got closer, Clarke noticed an even more off putting detail. A single tear.

She instinctively reached up to brush that disconcerting tear away. “Head clear for now, remember? Tears later.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “I wasn’t crying.”

“You were.”

Their stares stayed locked on one another’s. Blue to brown. A dangerous line to walk.

After two minutes, two minutes, Bellamy jumped back into action. He snatched the keys from the table and jogged down the stairs to the House. Clarke followed him through the warehouse and into the carport. As she settled in, he started the car and opened the doors.

They took off onto the streets in the flashiest car in the carport, a sleek black convertible. Bellamy often closed the roof, but today he left it top down. Things had gotten too intense for him and Clarke hoped the oddly pleasant mixture of city and salty air would calm him. Get him out of his head.

As they turned onto the cliffside San Francisco freeway, Clarke admired the blushing sunset over the ocean. Bellamy slung a casual arm over the back of their seats and drove with one hand.

“Are you worried about running into Josephine again?” Bellamy asked, sounding more like himself.

Clarke laughed to herself. “She wishes.” She knew Bellamy sounded a little more focused but she also knew him well enough to know this could all be an act.

But over three years, Clarke had learned not to bother with him. So she tilted her head back onto his arm to enjoy the pink sky and ocean breeze as they drove towards their potential deaths.


	2. Night Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet that thought faded as soon as it came. Her mind repeated one thing over and over.
> 
> Blake. Bellamy Blake. Blake. Bellamy Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a short one, but the next one starts off with a long scene that didn't fit into this one. Second song: Night Running by Cage the Elephant

Bellamy stepped out of the car, the breeze ruffling his curls. He had already donned his job persona--intimidating, silent, but still charming. Clarke slipped her shoes back on before climbing out to take his arm. The closest parking spot they could find was about a quarter mile from the mansion. Internally, Clarke groaned at the thought of the long walk in her stilettos. She and Raven often complained about the uncomfortable shoes for jobs like these, but Kane said they needed to blend in.

After the grueling walk along the car-lined road, they reached the looming Lightbourne Manor. Between the chiseled white stone and four thick pillars at the entryway, the four-story manor looked almost like a government building. The front wings of the house were only two stories each with an open porch area and a small side room on top. However, the back of the house was massive and undoubtedly where the party would take place. Clarke scanned the area for potential markers for later as they approached the door.

A pretty woman in black greeted Bellamy and Clarke in the arched entryway. “Welcome to Lightbourne Manor! Have a lovely time and be sure to respect all the guests.”

Bellamy dipped his chin politely to the woman and relocated his hand to the small of Clarke’s back. They wandered down a marble-floored hallway lit by mock gas lamps towards the ballroom. Clarke expected excessive grandeur, but the ballroom somehow managed to surpass her expectations. 

The marble floor continued into the dance floor where hundreds of couples twirled around to lovely classical music from the live orchestra by the food and refreshments. Others loomed around the short pillars lining two sides of the room. An easy place to hide. A small sitting area occupied the quarter of the room that Bellamy and Clarke had entered into. Balconies periodically jutted into the open air from the second and third floors. A silk banner depicting a different family or organization hung from each railing. Crowds milled around above as well, some curious faces watching the festivities below. Clarke noticed a couple locked in a passionate kiss on one of the third-floor balconies, right where everyone could see them.

“I need a walk around, I might try to find someone to chat with. You head to the snacks, alright? I see you eyeing up those glorified ice cream sandwiches,” Bellamy murmured in Clarke’s ear, leaning over her shoulder. She almost forgot he was behind her.

She turned to face him. “When should we meet up?”

“Sometime after midnight.” With that, he disappeared back down the hallway. 

They had been sure to speak loud enough that someone would hear. The conversation had run perfectly normally. Others would hear that man needs air, his date asks when they should meet. She happens to like sweets.

Clarke heard that Bellamy was scouting out the area around the safe for company. She should dance to make herself seen, then get an excuse to leave. He’d suggested a sick stomach. They would meet in the private snack kitchen attached to the bedroom of Josephine Lightbourne at exactly five minutes past midnight. 

One click sounded in Clarke’s earpiece where it settled in her inner ear. She reached up to casually nudge her ear, sending in two clicks of her own. Another three clicks responded. Everyone was in place. 

The clock struck twenty-two hundred hours. Clarke figured she should start her part, so she wandered towards the desserts. As she nibbled on a strawberry cheesecake bite, she looked up two the second floor balcony where Raven and Murphy were positioned. Murphy traced light shapes on Raven’s arm as she giggled and leaned against the wall. He glanced down towards Clarke and gave her a quick wink before resuming his work.

“Excuse me,” a modulated voice said from behind her. Clarke turned to see a tall man with warm brown skin and an odd patch of white hair. “May I have a dance?”

Clarke gave him a pleasant smile and took his hand. “Of course.” He led her out into the center of the dancing crowd and clasped her other hand. 

“That color looks lovely on you.” With a bit of a chuckle, he added, “Though I thought it looked quite handsome on the gentlemen you arrived with as well.”

A genuine smile appeared on Clarke’s face and she hummed to herself, amused. “I have to say, you are certainly correct.” The man smiled as well, yet his eyes narrowed at something over her shoulder. He turned them so Clarke now looked that direction.

A lovely woman with tawny hair and an intense expression watched them from one of the couches in the sitting area. She wore a charcoal grey suit with thin black stripes and a matching cap, looking absolutely fantastic. Much better than she did in leather with blood all over her face. Josephine Lightbourne herself. And her eyes were burning as she stared at Clarke dancing with--oh, she had forgotten to ask his name.

“If I may ask, what is your name?” 

“Gabriel Santiago. And you?”

Ah. Josephine’s ex-lover, now dancing with a rival of hers. Clarke couldn’t pretend to understand why Jospehine and Gabriel weren’t together since they both loved each other. Rather than get into that mess, she responded to Gabriel. “I’m Clarke Griffin.”

“I thought I recognized you. The man you came in with is Bellamy Blake, correct?”

Clarke froze. His name had rolled so easily off Gabriel’s tongue. Bellamy Blake. It suited him. Blake.

A vital part of Kane’s operation was making sure everyone was in the dark. All of his ninety-nine various agents and workers only knew each other by one name. They all picked either first or last, no one knew which, and went by that. Even Kane himself did. Not knowing someone’s name makes turning them in to the police infinitely more difficult. However, Bellamy did know Clarke’s full name. He went to break into the Griffin house the night he found her. So he knew.

Bellamy Blake. Knowing his name felt so oddly personal. But she couldn’t tell him she knew. Kane would have her head.

Trying to pretend she hadn’t paused, Clarke resumed smiling. “Yes, he is.”

Gabriel leaned in close to her ear. “I have a message for him. I know where the red queen is.”

He vanished into the crowd, leaving Clarke to fight her way out alone. She couldn’t help but feel that his message was somehow connected to whatever the Azgeda woman had told Bellamy last week. Yet that thought faded as soon as it came. Her mind repeated one thing over and over.

_Blake. Bellamy Blake. Blake. Bellamy Blake._

A hand caught her shoulder while she lost focus. Someone yanked her back into the dancing crowd. The person holding her spun her to face them. She started to back away and looked right into the eyes of--

Finn Collins.

He pulled her back, and she was forced to dance with him to avoid drawing attention to herself. “What do you want, Finn? I told you to stop trying to get me back. You fucked up, remember, not me.”

“Clarke, please, I’m sorry.” His eyes were pleading, and maybe they would convince her in another life, but not in this one after what he’d done. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just loved you two both so much that I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking either of your hearts.”

Instinctively, Clarke’s eyes snapped to Raven and Murphy’s balcony. Finn was luckily either too thick or too preoccupied to notice. Clarke latched her eyes back onto him immediately. Though in the second she looked at the balcony, she saw Murphy firmly holding Raven’s jaw to force her to stay facing him. Raven would surely get him back for that later.

“I can’t forgive you, Finn,” Clarke told him. She felt guilty for being harsh but he needed to hear this. “You cheated on me _and_ Raven, and you knew we were friends. You knew I cared about you. She loved you. You knew it would break both our hearts!” She yanked her hands away from him and backed up a step.

He reached for her and said “I-”

“Fuck you, Finn Collins. Get out of my face.”

Clarke’s chest rose and fell quickly as she watched him walk away with hurt in his eyes. Twenty-three hundred hours. One hour and five minutes to go. For the rest of the hour, she let random men and women spin her around, not bothering to learn their names.

At midnight, she bent her ankle inwards while dancing with a handsome dark-haired man. He asked to help her to the sitting area. Clarke thanked him and wobbled off to the entryway alone. Once far enough down the hall, she stopped faking an injury and quickened her pace.

The Lightbourne Manor had been intentionally built like a maze. Clarke remembered the way through, though it was harder to navigate with so many people strolling about. Up the main stairs, down two halls, up the backstairs, down another hall, into the bathroom, out the back door, another hall, another hall, and she arrived at the door to the snack kitchen. The lock on the door had already been broken by Bellamy’s lockpicking work. 

Bellamy _Blake’s_ lockpicking work.

The kitchen had the same grey and white marble theme as the ballroom. A large counter stood in the middle of the room while cabinets and kitchen. The silver refrigerator hung open. But no Bellamy.

It was ten past midnight and perfectly punctual Bellamy Blake was nowhere to be seen. 


	3. Glory & Gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally heating up! This chapter relates to lots of early season one. Song recommendation: Glory & Gore by Lorde  
> -  
> “You could use a drink.” He closed his eyes again. “I promised to get blind with you tonight but I think we should reschedule. You go have fun alone.”
> 
> “Not tonight.” Her words were lost. He had already drifted off.

Clarke couldn’t risk calling out for Bellamy, so she settled on waiting in the room. While hoisting herself up to sit on the counter she noticed the open fridge looking unusually deep. One shelf had no food on it and a clear path into what looked like a long tunnel. Clarke knelt in front of the fridge and peered in. 

Coming face to face with Bellamy, she hissed “What are you doing in there?” She backed away so he could wriggle out.

“The safe was inside.” He ran a hand through his hair and tossed four key cards onto the counter. “I got the cards.”

Clarke pushed herself back up on the counter. “Get to work, then.” As Bellamy knelt at her feet and slipped off her shoes, she couldn’t help but stare. _Bellamy Blake_. Weird.

He had just put the second card into her shoe when chatter echoed down the hallway leading into the kitchen from Josephine’s bedroom, along with two sets of footsteps. Bellamy gave Clarke a hopeful look.

“Nowhere to hide. Ideas?”

“One,” he said. “You won’t like it.”

“Go for it, but be quick,” Clarke mumbled, staring off towards the hall.

Bellamy caught her off guard when he shoved her shoulders to push her down against the counter, right over top of the remaining two cards. Cold marble nipped at her exposed skin. He then fell back to his knees and pulled her a little closer to the edge. With sturdy hands, he gripped her calves and hooked her legs over his shoulders. Clarke mimicked his heavy breathing and felt herself blushing when they made eye contact. Hopefully it would only add to their act. The voices neared the entrance so Bellamy leaned in just close enough to brush the fabric of her dress with his nose.

“-to the docks,” one of the men said as he rounded the corner. “Ah, what do we have here? Is that Bellamy-”

Bellamy had already straightened up. “Yes, sir, it is. Would you gentlemen mind leaving me and my date to ourselves?”

The second man, a man with brown hair who was both shorter and more muscular than his companion, narrowed his eyes at Clarke. The first man spoke up again. “Of course. She’s a nice one, though. If she’s not tired when you’re done playing, I’d love to give her a go.”

Almost too fast for Clarke to register, Bellamy was on his feet. Unfortunately for Clarke, her legs stayed hooked around his shoulders since he leaned in to grip the counter. Her dress slid down her legs and collected a little too high for her liking. Bellamy glanced down only for a quick second, just long enough for him to start blushing as well. 

His knuckles whitened as he refocused on the men. “Get out,” he growled.

The first man tried to stand his ground but the second man gave Clarke a quick wink before guiding him out by the shoulder. She knew he looked familiar and that confirmed her suspicions. But who was he?

Clarke sat up and leaned back on her hands, facing Bellamy, who had yet to move. “Was that really necessary?”

He lifted his eyes to hers tilted his head to the side. “Why aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

“Seriously? I am! And besides, you’re the one who decided to stand up.”

Bellamy pushed off the counter and rubbed his face with a laugh. “That does not cover enough to qualify as underwear in my book.” He sat up next to her and pulled his shoes off to put the two other cards inside. “Also, yes, that was necessary. He was being a dick, talking about you like a toy.” Clear disgust shown on his face.

With a soft smile, Clarke stood and grabbed his discarded jacket. “Hurry up, we’re probably late.”

As he slipped his shoes back on, Raven and Murphy burst into the kitchen a little too quickly to be casual, Roma and Atom on their heels. “We have a problem,” Murphy panted. “We need to get out. Backup plan.”

“Let me guess--it was Murphy’s fault,” Bellamy grumbled as he led them all out the way Clarke entered. 

“Actually, it was Raven’s fault.” They hurried down the hall towards the back stairs that led straight to the attic. “She punched Finn.”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile as they entered a little library on the fourth floor. 

Dust drifted in the air lit by moonlight pouring through the windows. The room appeared untouched for many years. Pages of the numerous books on the shelves lining every wall had turned yellowish. A few short-wick candles sat in the corner. 

Atom pushed out front of the pack and pulled a specific book off its shelf. The shelf swung away to reveal a gold panel in the wall. The safe they came to find. “Your turn, Bellamy,” Atom said as he backed up. 

Clarke caught his shoulder. “Atom, you aren’t serious about still cracking the safe, are you?”

“We’ll never get another chance once they catch us. You know that.”

She clenched her fists and glanced between Atom backing up and Bellamy beginning to crack the safe. “We aren’t ready. Kane mentioned potential poisonous gas and water traps. This mistake could be throwing away our chances anyway.” She turned to Bellamy. “The air could be toxic!”

Bellamy hesitated before pushing the door open. Thundering footsteps of guards approached the library door. “If the air’s toxic, we’re all dead anyway,” he said and the safe opened with a pressure release. 

Before anyone could say a word, he dove inside. Clarke followed with the others right behind. As soon as the last of them crowded in the door slammed shut and locked again. 

“Shit. I knew we shouldn’t have come in,” Clarke said. She blinked in an attempt to adjust her vision but the inside of the safe was pitch black. 

Murphy clicked on a flashlight and whistled. “Somehow I managed to pay more attention than you. This is part of the magic show.”

Now that Clarke could see, she remembered why. A tiny window hid at the back of the small safe to make it appear as just another closet. While the others photographed the papers cast about the floor, Raven popped the window open with a perfect placement of pressure. 

Clarke noticed Bellamy freeze at one point while they scoured the mess for important papers. He picked up something shiny and promptly tucked it into his jacket pocket before continuing as if nothing had happened.

One by one they slithered out into the cool early morning air. The adjacent windows led into two bathrooms. They all climbed in and exited together as if nothing had happened. Once back in the main room they had nothing left to do but leave. However, they were all thinking the same thing and Roma put it into words. “We go to the grandest places and all we ever do is work,” she said, studying the people dancing with smiles on their faces. “Shouldn’t we have fun for once?”

With the silent agreement of a few nods they all dove into the crowd of spinning people. Bellamy placed his hands on Clarke’s waist so he could lean in towards her ear to chat. “What’s the story behind the tattoo on your inner thigh?”

Clarke laughed a little as they whirled around to the lively music. She tossed her arms around his neck and leaned in to explain. “G for Griffin. Simple and sensical.”

“And the little crown on it?” Bellamy drew back so she could see his smirk. “Princess.”

“Drunk me thought it would be funny. Wells warned me against it, but I insisted. He always knew better than me.”

Bellamy’s face fell into the mixture of sympathy and guilt as it always did at a mention of her dead best friend or father. He felt personally responsible even though he wasn’t to blame for Clarke’s own actions. She got them killed. She was to blame. _Everyone who loves you dies_ , she heard the voice of Josephine Lightbourne say in her head. 

Shaking away the thoughts, she said, “Why don’t we just have fun and dance? Forget about everything and pretend we’re normal.”

Bellamy grinned. “I like the sound of that.” 

The agents could only risk dancing for an hour but it was the best hour of their year. Sure, there were dance parties in the House, but ballroom dancing was on a different tier for Clarke. Ballroom dancing meant getting dizzy while her dress billowed out around her, Bellamy smiling and Raven waltzing with her, Roma pretending to sneak snacks out in her bra, Murphy and Atom pretending to conduct the music. They passed through the front door after an evening of bliss prepared to have more fun on the drive home.

However, the Lightbourne manor guards had other plans. Bellamy and Clarke were almost halfway to their car when they heard Roma cry out. They rushed back towards the house to find Roma unconscious on the road beside her and Atom’s car. Four guards dragged a kicking and bleeding Atom back towards the manor. 

“He’s not getting away,” Bellamy said, his hand drifting towards his concealed handgun. 

Clarke looked up to him from trying to pick Roma up. “You can’t. He might have a chance to get away once he’s inside.”

“He’s asking me to. He knows.” Clarke followed his gaze. Sure enough, Atom was desperately mouthing “kill me.” Bellamy already had his gun out and aimed. The guards were about to take him around the corner. 

In the split second before Bellamy shot, Atom kicked hard enough to knock one guard off him. His wild eyes widened at Bellamy, still begging to be spared from torture and being force to betray the 100. But the guard had already seen him aiming the gun and sent a bullet right into Bellamy. He crumpled at Clarke’s feet.

Clarke snatched the gun off the ground and immediately shot Atom. Guilt crushed her as she ducked behind the car to avoid returning fire. She hadn’t even seen the bullet find its mark. It felt wrong to hope, but also necessary. Instead of dwelling on the mercy kill, she began to drag Bellamy and Roma into the back seat of Roma and Atom’s car. Once they were both secured in a seat she sped off towards home. Hopefully no one would notice the blood. 

Both passengers woke at some point during the unbearably long drive. When Clarke pulled into the car port Harper came to take Roma inside so she could take Bellamy upstairs. Kane waited at the table with Raven and Murphy, who had left early and returned an hour ago. Clarke went right to Bellamy’s bedroom to settle him in bed. A medic came in as she did so to tend to him. The bullet had gone clean through his left shoulder. Blood still gushed from the wound and stained his plain white sheets. Clarke stood and watched, utterly frozen. Raven guided her out to the sitting room after a while to talk with Kane.

“What happened?” Kane asked as soon as Clarke settled onto the couch beside Raven. He sat across from the girls with his elbows propped on his knees, eyes blazing.

Clarke cleared her throat and began to quietly recount the events. As she did so, Raven stood and left, tears welling in her eyes. 

Kane leaned back and sat in silence for a minute. “Clarke, through three years you have managed to avoid killing anyone. I know this is hard. And I know it being a teammate rather than an enemy makes it a thousand times worse. I speak from experience. You just have to push through and let it strengthen you. You have to hold on.”

So quietly she wasn’t sure she said it aloud, she murmured. “I only have to hold on for you.”

“What was that?”

“I only have to hold on for you. This isn’t because you care about me or feel bad. This is because I could ruin your whole operation a thousand times easier than anyone else,” Clarke spat. She wasn’t angry with Kane but she needed to be angry with someone. Someone had to take the blame. 

“Clarke, I do care about you. I’m worried about you. But yes, you’re right, you have a power over me that no one else does. I trust you not to act on it.” 

Clarke stood. “I’m going to go sit with Bellamy to see if he wakes up.” When Kane stood and nodded, she didn’t feel satisfied with his reaction. She stepped closer and whispered, “With Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.”

Horror briefly flashed in Kane’s eyes. “You cannot tell him you know.”

She nodded and wandered back towards Bellamy’s room. The medic left a chair beside his bed so Clarke plopped down with a sigh, thoughts unclear. _I can tell you’re cloudy. You need to be all clear up here._

“Clarke?” Bellamy rasped. His eyelids fluttered and he weakly turned his head towards her. “I think I lost too much blood.”

“It’s alright now,” she assured him. 

“You could use a drink.” He closed his eyes again. “I promised to get blind with you tonight but I think we should reschedule. You go have fun alone.”

“Not tonight.” Her words were lost. He had already drifted off.

Clarke looked around Bellamy’s room. She’d never had time to study it before. He didn’t keep much besides a monstrously large collection of history-related books in his closet. The rest of the room remained bare white and gray. His jacket had been tossed on the floor in the corner. Clarke recalled what she witnessed while combing the safe and went to dig in his jacket pocket. The shiny object he had collected remained unharmed inside.

It was a silver ring meant for fingers much smaller than Bellamy’s own, imprinted with a design. Clarke couldn’t decipher if it was an eight or an infinity symbol. She had seen the infinity symbol many times before, but she had no idea what Bellamy cared about that had to do with an eight. Another mystery for another night. For tonight, sleep.


	4. Moving to New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick review of last time since it's been a little longer than normal: Clarke learned Bellamy's last name and had to kill Atom while leaving the party. Bellamy got shot.  
> This chapter's song recommendation: Moving to New York by the Wombats. Not super related, but the mood is sort of similar.  
> -  
> Bellamy frowned. “I could never forget about you.”  
> “Even when they replace me?”  
> “Even then.”

“Clarke?”

Clarke startled at the sound of her name. She had gotten lost in thought while staring out over the San Francisco skyline. Kane stood behind her with his arms crossed and concern in his eyes.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Clarke. We need to discuss what you said last night.”

Knowing what was coming, she tried to deflect the looming words as long as possible. “I danced with a man named Gabriel Santiago last night. I assume you know him. Anyway, he gave me a message for Bellamy. I thought it might be important.”

Kane sighed. “Clarke, why are you up here?”

“I come up here to think. Why?”   
“I was wondering if you were considering fleeing.” He sat down on the edge of the roof beside her and stared out over the sunset. “You’ve been my most reliable agent in these past three years. We have made more progress taking Skaikru down in this time than ever before, and I know you have played a very important part in that. And I hope to continue working with you someday.”

Clarke bit her lip in anticipation of what she already expected. The “but.”

“But I have to send you home. You know too much.”

“I know. I'm already packed.”

“You can’t say goodbye. Leave without anyone seeing you.” He handed her a slip of paper and his gaze softened. “This is your mother’s address. You will be greatly missed.”

After quickly hugging Kane, Clarke snuck down to her room and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She ventured through the House towards the carport as inconspicuous as possible. Looking around, she already felt the pain of leaving. Monty and Jasper worked the bar while Harper, Miller, and some other guards sat and laughed with them. Clarke felt a little smile come to her face from watching them. 

Other agents and workers buzzed around the House floor. A crew hung up new plans at the strategizing table. Plans Clarke wouldn’t be a part of. Higher ranking agents sat on the railings up by the apartments and watched below. A couple of them waved at Clarke as she walked by. People would undoubtedly notice her absence. It was only a matter of time.

Clarke settled herself into a black jeep that she and Bellamy had occasionally taken out for jobs. She allowed herself a moment to sit in the port and soak in her surroundings for the last time. This place, no matter how twisted things got, had been a comforting home for her three whole years after she lost the two people most important to her. Even the cement floor, bland gray ceiling, and assortment of cars surrounding her now gave her a sense of home. More of one than the “home” she was heading to would ever give her. And her mother had moved from her childhood home. A lot had changed. 

Someone knocked lightly on the jeep window and Clarke jumped.

Monty stood outside, peering in with a furrowed brow. “Clarke?”

“Hi, Monty. What’s going on?” She rolled down her window and stared up at him. What was he so concerned about?

He propped an elbow against the hood of the car and whispered, “I know you’re going home.” Clarke began to panic, but he then said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“How did you find out?” She trusted Monty with any secrets, but if her reason for leaving got around somehow, it would ruin Bellamy’s life. He didn’t have anywhere to go. 

“I could tell something had gone wrong at your last job. Harper told me that Bellamy and Roma were hurt, and Atom didn’t come back with you. You were acting strange today so I put the pieces together.”

Clarke relaxed a little. She leaned out the window to give Monty a hug. “In that case, goodbye. I’ll miss you a lot.”

With a sad grin, he said, “I’ll miss you too. We won’t forget about the brave Clarke Griffin.”

Of course Monty knew her last name. He always picked up on the little details that others missed. Clarke leaned back into the car and started to back out into the driveway. She took a deep breath. Time to go home.

Just before she turned the car the whole way to leave, Bellamy appeared beside Monty. He leaned on another car with his hand over the bandage patch on his shoulder. The wild look in his eyes and of his appearance sent chills down Clarke’s spine. Something glinted on his finger. The ring he stole from the vault. 

“Clarke, don’t go!” 

She winced. The disappointment in his voice came through clear despite his voice being muffled by the distance. But she needed to go. So Clarke pulled out of the driveway and sped off in the direction of Los Angeles. 

She wouldn’t miss her chance to do the right thing this time.

Clarke hadn’t been expecting anything in particular from her mother’s new residence, but this place defied her nonexistent expectations. 

The only thing she had pictured was someplace unnecessarily costly. Both her parents were doctors, so her mother had her pay and all her father’s left money. Clarke recognized that she grew up privileged in a modern-style stone house with enough space for two guest bedrooms.

This apartment was not that. The apartment complex itself was nice on the outside with the perfectly trimmed trees on the sidewalk and balconies jutting from the brick walls, but her mother had made a wreck of her own room.

Clarke pushed the door open with no need for the key Kane had given her. Papers lay strewn across the hardwood floor, some stained by what looked like wine and paint. Dirty dishes had piled all around the kitchen to the left of the entryway. Over the place where a dining room table usually would be, the light had gone out. A single armchair had been pressed into the corner. Beside it sat a mountain of little orange pill bottles. 

Clarke’s heart sank to her feet and her stomach twisted into hundreds of knots. “Mom?”

“Clarke, honey, is it you?” Abby’s voice called from behind one of the closed doors to the right. She stumbled through the doorway into the open entryway where Clarke stood. Upon seeing her lost daughter, her eyes widened. 

During the drive from San Francisco to Los Angeles, Clarke had thought of thousands of excuses for her disappearance. But the second she laid eyes on her mother her mind went blank. Abby’s hand shook rapidly and a desperate look filled her wide eyes. She appeared unhealthily thin compared to how she’d been before. “Mom, I-”

Abby rushed forward and threw her arms around Clarke’s neck. “It’s so good to see you home! I missed you at Christmas. How has college been? Are you learning a lot?”

College? Her mother thought she had simply left for college and not visited often? Whatever drug she had become hooked on had really rattled her memory.

“Mom, are you okay? When was the last time you went to work?”

Abby drew back with a frown. “I was fired, remember? I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Clarke glanced down at her mother’s shaky hands and realized why her mother had ended up here. She had been taking an anxiety relieving pill after Clarke’s father’s death and likely became addicted. When her hospital had realized, they would have fired her immediately. She’d sold the house to pay for more pills and rent. 

With a sigh, Clarke sat her mother down in the armchair and began to clean up the apartment. She hadn’t been expecting to come home to take care of Abby, but it seemed like that was the situation now. She would have to get a job to pay for rent and food. Readjusting to normal society would simply be the next challenge in her never-ending obstacle course of a life. 

About a week later on her second day of work at Starbucks, she saw a familiar face. A woman with loose twirls of strawberry blond hair in a leather jacket and gray cap sat at a table in the corner. With the cap shadowing her face, she wasn’t quite recognizable, but Clarke knew she’d seen that woman at some point. 

Before she could further investigate who the woman was, another familiar face walked in. He paced to the counter and raked a hand through his dark curls, opening his mouth to speak.

Clarke spoke first. “Bellamy, what the hell are you doing here?”

He almost looked shocked. “I thought you’d be happy to see me up. You left. Why did you have to leave?”

“How do you know I didn’t choose to leave for myself?” She was glad to see him recovered, but something about the concern in his tone made her want to snap at him. To make him care less about her, to be less vulnerable.

“When is your next break?” he asked, glancing around. If he had been followed and brought someone here, Clarke would really kill him this time. 

She forgot all about the familiar woman she’d noticed as she asked another employee to cover for her and took Bellamy out back. Clarke leaned back against the wall and stared at Bellamy expectantly. He stood awkwardly and fidgeted with his ring, unable to meet her eyes. Clarke smiled a bit. She’d never seen him uncomfortable before.

“What is it, Bellamy?” Her eyes narrowed on the eight ring he twisted, the one he’d taken from the Lightbourne safe. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried when you took off and Monty wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I had to go, Bellamy. Kane kicked me out.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened and he stepped closer. “He kicked you out? For what? You didn’t report us, did you?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I found out something I shouldn’t know that could compromise me during a job. That’s it.”

“Oh.” He leaned against the wall beside her. His eyes remained glued on the clear blue sky. “I thought you would be sad about leaving.”

“I am,” she told him. She put a hand on his shoulder and his dark gaze snapped to her blue one. “I never wanted to leave, Bellamy. The place had just started to feel like a home to me. I’m not sad because I’m trying not to think about it.”

“I understand.”

Clarke tilted her head. “How did you find me, anyway?”

Bellamy let his eyes wander again and he kicked some pebbles around with the toe of his sneaker. “This is the first place I saw you. You were a frequent customer so I came to scout you, remember?”

“Right,” Clarke said with a laugh. “You should probably go. Forever. Forget about me.”

Bellamy frowned. “I could never forget about you.”

“Even when they replace me?”

“Even then.”

Clarke threw her arms around Bellamy’s neck and propped her chin on his shoulder. He stumbled back a bit but then reciprocated the hug. Clarke never wanted to let go. Hugging Bellamy made her feel safe and warm, gave her an anchor to reality. But he drew away, and without another word, left.

Unable to go back in right away, Clarke stayed at the back of the shop watching some birds fight over half a breakfast sandwich. She got so lost in thought she almost didn’t notice the amused voice around the corner cooing, “How things have changed for you, Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke whirled to see the familiar woman she noticed earlier watching her. Without the cap on, her identity became clear. Josephine Lightbourne, back again.

“What do you want,” Clarke grumbled. “Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m not with the 100 anymore.”

“I’ve noticed.” Josephine twirled her cap on her finger and looked over her shoulder. “I saw Bellamy leaving. He looked upset. Trouble in paradise?”

“What do you want?” she repeated.

“Sorry, I got carried away. We have a common problem now that I want to help you with.”

Clarke snorted. “I don’t think we have much in common, Josephine. Except for hate for each other.”

Anger flared in Josephine’s eyes. “Clarke, this is serious. You can’t do this without my help.”

Another familiar voice from behind Josephine said, “You should have listened to Josephine this time, Clarke.”

“Gabriel,” Josephine hissed, then began backing up. A dart stuck in her neck and she crumpled. Two strangers dragged her away.

Clarke tried to turn but the corners of her vision darkened. Then she too began falling. Falling far, far down. Too far to keep swimming up. She couldn’t fight it any longer. She would have to fight when she woke.

So when Clarke did wake an unknown amount of time later, she immediately bolted to her feet. Her surroundings slowly came into focus. There were no restraints on her. She had been caged in a metal cell with bars on one side in some dark hallway. A pretty girl with dark hair and wide blue eyes sat against the wall opposite to her.

“Clarke Griffin? It’s really you?” she said incredulously. “I’m Octavia.”

  
  



	5. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Trouble by Cage the Elephant, and I think it says it all. Sorry for the longer wait, I'll try to keep it more consistent from now on.  
> -  
> The thought of that life without Bellamy at her side felt--impossible. So, so wrong. Just thinking about it halted her breath.

Clarke pressed her back against the freezing cell wall. The damp, chilly air pressed heavy on her chest. “Where are we? How do you know who I am?”

“Josephine told me. We’re in the Lightbourne Manor.” Octavia frowned at her and crawled a little closer. “Clarke, you should sit down.”

“How long was I asleep? How long have you been in here? When did you talk to Josephine?”

Octavia’s electric blue eyes stared up at her face, dropped to the floor, and met her eyes again. With a sign, Clarke slid down the wall and sat. She pulled off her Starbucks apron and wrapped it around her shoulders for a little warmth. Glancing at Octavia, who had likely shivered down here much longer than herself, she offered it to the other girl. 

Octavia accepted with a smile. “I’m not sure how long you were out or how long I’ve been in here. I was here a long time before you came. Josephine comes to chat with me fairly often.”

“Do you know why they took you?” 

“I have ideas.” She grimaced. “After my mom died, my brother couldn’t make enough money for both of us. He stole from the wrong person once and they took him away. He got roped into some gang and I never saw him again. Since then I’ve been working with Trikru. I got kidnapped on a job a while ago and I’ve been here since.”

Clarke rested her head on the wall. She couldn’t imagine being trapped under a manor for an unknown amount of time without ever seeing the sky. How the other girl stayed sane, she would never understand. But she did know she had to get Octavia and herself out.

The cell appeared fairly secure. Nothing could be done easily without any tools or guards to manipulate. Maybe Josephine? Not likely. Clarke needed Kane’s plans in the event of capture now more than ever, and this was the one time she couldn’t remember them. 

“Keep talking, asking me questions,” Octavia whispered. “I missed having people around all the time.”

Clarke patted the spot beside her and Octavia scooted against the wall as well. “Tell me about your name. It’s lovely.”

“It means ‘born eighth’. My brother was a huge mythology and history nerd, and of course mom let him pick my name.” She traced a little eight in the air. “I like it, though. It reminds me of my brother. And eight is my favorite number because it looks like an infinity sign, and I will love my family for infinity.” Octavia twisted the skin on her ring finger where a ring would sit.

Almost like she used to wear a ring. If she had a ring, it would likely be something important to her. Like an eight that doubled as an infinity sign. And the Lightbournes would likely take a treasure like that and hide it away when they caught her. Maybe even put it in the safe. 

“Did you used to have a ring?” Clarke asked. “One with an eight or infinity sign on it.”   
Octavia narrowed her eyes. “I did. Why?”

“I’ve seen it. My team and I were in the Lightbourne safe and my partner-”

Before she could finish her sentence and her thought, Josephine appeared with three sandwiches in hand. “Dinner time, ladies.” She slid two through the bars with a smirk. “How nice of you to join us, Clarke.”

“So that’s the whole story?” Octavia asked. She tucked herself back in the corner out of the light. 

Clarke nodded and glanced back up at Josephine. The other girl clutched the cell bars and pressed her forehead against the cold metal. Somehow, Clarke wasn’t too surprised that Josephine wanted to help them. 

When Josephine first came in, Clarke went feral. Her reaction angered Josephine who retaliated by teasing her about killing Atom. Clarke had gone through so much trouble to push that out of her mind in her time at home, but the taunting had it all rushing back to her and tearing up from the inside out again. 

Then with bleeding hands from attacking the bars, she ate a sandwich after Octavia forced the two girls to make peace. Josephine explained that she disagreed with her parent’s methods of living life and tried to warn Clarke of their plans. Gabriel, however, had been following her and realized the situation while the girls talked. He took it upon himself to kidnap them before the Lightbournes could move them safely out of the city. He would then come back to break Octavia out and they would all be safe in Los Angeles. 

But the Lightbournes had a more extensive reach and intercepted him. Josephine found nothing about his potential locations anywhere.

“I’m not surprised. Gabriel was always nice to me when he stopped by before.”

Josephine straightened and stared into the dark where Octavia sat. “He’s been here before?”

“He tried to break me out twice during parties.”

Guilt washed over Clarke as she recalled her conversation with him during their dance. “I think he gave me a message about breaking you out at the last event. I ignored it at the time.” If she had told Bellamy then, maybe they could have broken Octavia out.

Clarke kept questions about Bellamy out of the conversation so far, as they had other things to discuss, but it seemed inevitable now. Something held her back from outright telling Octavia that she knew where her brother ran off to. 

“What was the message?” Josephine asked. She paced outside the cell, gripping the collar of her red leather jacket tightly.

“Something about knowing where a red queen or something was.”

Octavia sucked in a breath. “He called me that once. He did mean me. But why did he tell you that? Did he want you to help break me out?”

It hit Clarke like a train. 

She didn’t want to tell Octavia where Bellamy was because she didn’t want him to leave. If Bellamy connected with his sister he would surely leave to be with her. Living as she had in the past weeks could not last forever. Somewhere inside, Clarke still hoped return to the 100 was a possibility. The thought of that life without Bellamy at her side felt--impossible. So, so wrong. Just thinking about it halted her breath. 

Clarke needed Bellamy. 

Whether she liked it or not--which she was very unclear on, being dependent on someone else in her line of work--it was the truth. Yet she had to tell Octavia. Keeping her brother hidden from her just to spare herself would be cruel and selfish. 

She took a deep breath. “He told me to tell Bellamy. My partner.”

Octavia’s face hovered over Clarke’s in seconds. “My brother. You... you know him?”

“I do. We work together.” Every word was a knife wound to her heart. Anxiety at the thought of Bellamy leaving overtook her. Why did she need him so goddamn much? It made no sense. “We have to get out of here, Josephine.”

“I’ll try finding the keys again tonight.” 

Josephine disappeared and Octavia sank back into the corner, mumbling to herself. Clarke lay on her back, wishing she could see the stars. If it were even night.

“Bellamy used to tell me stories about the constellations when I was little,” Octavia said. Her voice sounded empty.

Clarke hummed and closed her eyes. Bellamy used to tell her the same stories when they would get drunk after tough jobs. They would lay on the roof and he pointed at shapes she couldn’t see, detailing an old story about them. For hours they switched from laughing to ranting to simply existing. 

Without him, Clarke wouldn’t have survived the years of hardship before she adjusted, and the occasional moments when she would feel like it was the beginning all over again.  _ That  _ was why she needed him. Maybe it was unfair to depend on him that way, but she would repay him if she saw him again. Not if, when.

Josephine reappeared unexpectedly quickly, panting with a set of keys in her hand. She twisted them in the lock and the heavy iron door swung open. Clarke immediately burst out and followed Josephine down the hallway. Octavia stepped out one slow and timid step at a time. When the light leaking in from the window at the end of the hall hit her face, lighting her electric eyes up more than usual, she sprinted down the bland corridor and dove right through the glass.

Clarke cried out, but Octavia popped up on the other side smiling with a few scratches. Josephine snorted and climbed out after Clarke did so. 

“There’s a silver car with the keys in the ignition parked out front that you can take.” Josephine shifted her gaze to Clarke as she told Octavia, “I hope you find your brother.”

Clarke took the hint and neglected mentioning the mental strain Josephine had put Bellamy through about a month ago on their recent job before the party. She and Octavia bolted for the silver car. Clarke pulled out and sped them through the streets as fast as possible.

She pulled off in a parking lot at a random school. “We should ditch this car. There’s a train nearby that we can take to the-”

“I’m not going to find Bellamy,” Octavia interrupted with a firm tone. “I don’t want to yet. For now, I go back to Trikru. You should go home, too.”

And though it hurt, Clarke knew Octavia was right. They needed to be careful. The two girls hopped out of the car and walked their separate ways, both the opposite direction of the 100.

Clarke shut the door to her apartment as quietly as possible. Abby curled up asleep on the armchair in the corner. With a sign, Clarke covered her with a blanket and cooked some ramen noodles for dinner. After a refreshing and much-needed shower, she lay in her bed and promptly fell asleep for the first time in years.

The next morning, life went on. Clarke helped her mother around the house a bit. She went to work for a lot of the day. Whatever time not spent working was spent either helping her mother or looking for a second job. 

Focus rarely showed its face. All day, Clarke struggled to keep the 100 and Josephine and Gabriel and Octavia from her mind.

One day about a week later, Clarke was thinking about how prepared Gabriel had been to sacrifice everything for the three girls while getting gas. She let her guard down and leaned against the car with closed eyes for a single moment. She was tired all the time, and had become tired of being tired.

“Clarke?” a faint but familiar voice said. 

She snapped out of her thoughts to see a beaten looking Gabriel standing beside her. His eyes were wide and glancing around wildly.

“Gabriel, what’s going on?”

“I have to go, they’re following me. Seeing you surprised me. I was unsure if Josephine would free you and Octavia in my place. I wouldn’t put cruelty past her.”

“Oh, right. Well, I wanted to thank-”

He ran off before she could finish. Worried about what sent him off, Clarke left with a half full tank and racing heart. 

That night, her inability to sleep returned. She tossed and turned until two. Eventually she gave up and slipped out of her bed. At that second, something knocked against her window. 

Maybe a bird? Just a bird, right.

Two more knocks. Clarke settled back into bed and pretended she didn’t hear it. 

The sound of her window unlatching got her sitting up with the kitchen knife she kept by her bed in hand. 

As a figure dressed in all black climbed into Clarke’s room, she had a strong sense of deja vu. She reached over to click on a light while the figure tugged off their mask.

“What do you know about organized crime?” Bellamy whispered with a smirk. He positioned himself in a way that Clarke could see he expected her to rush at him and hug him.

Clarke stayed glued in place. “Get the fuck out of my house, Bellamy, and never come back.”

His face fell. Clarke couldn’t feel her heart beating. No breath would enter her lungs as he said, “What?” He didn’t even say it. Just a soft, defeated exhale of a word.

“I refuse to do this again. So go on. Get out.”

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support on this so far! I had been coming up with ideas chapter by chapter so far, but I just planned the rest of it out and I'm very excited to write more. It means a lot to me that people liked this and I appreciate all the feedback. Love you all!


	6. Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendation: Ice Cream by The Wombats  
> -  
> Warning! There is torture in this chapter. Also, sorry about the wait, I've had a lot going on. Apologies for the short chapter as well.

“I-I don’t--what?”

Clarke backed against the wall. “Bellamy, listen. I never wanted this. Now I have the chance to have a life that’s about more than just survival.”

Bellamy blinked and took a step forward out of the shadows. “You-” he began, then shook his head and swallowed hard. In a wobbly voice, he said, “But you already have that. I thought we were friends. I thought we were having fun. I don’t understand. You aren’t coming back?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut and closed her hand tighter around her knife. Why couldn’t he just leave? Convincing him that she wanted to stay should have been so much easier. And she wanted to say yes, so, so badly. If he stayed too long, she worried she might.

“And I can’t do it without you. We’re a team, Clarke. The head and the heart.” Bellamy’s voice broke. “I’m reckless. Someone has to be reasonable to balance me out. I’ve got you for that.”

The head and the heart. Clarke used to tell him that when he tried to dive into a fight. He had the heart to do what was right, but she had to keep him in check with a sense of consequence. Maybe some other day Clarke would have his choice of words sweet. Today, she simply saw it as Bellamy using the strongest weapons in his arsenal. 

So she stayed silent.

Footsteps across the creaky wooden floorboards indicated Bellamy’s exit. Clarke tucked her knife back under her mattress and fell onto the bed, exhausted. Already she could feel her future regret of the decision she made. Yet she still felt right. She couldn’t leave her mother alone.

Clarke bolted upright again when the windowsill creaked. She had assumed Bellamy was gone. “I-” Bellamy started. With a cough, he left. 

Just as Clarke finally closed her eyes, her mother appeared in the doorway. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one.” Clarke rolled over on her side. Her nails dug painfully into her palms.

“You were talking to a friend.” Abby sat down on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair. “I heard him asking you to come back. Do you want to go back to school, honey?”

_ Yes.  _ “No. I need to stay here with you.”

“I can take care of myself now, Clarke. You need to make sure to take care of yourself, too. Go back. I can tell you want to.”

Clarke bit her lip to hold back tears. “Okay. I’ll go in the morning.” She honestly didn’t trust her mother to take good care of herself, but she could always hire someone to help with some of the extra money she’d made. 

“I love you. Have fun at school.” Abby left and gently shut the door. 

“Bye, Mom,” Clarke muttered and descended into sleep, filled with her usual nightmares about jobs and the newer ones about killing Atom.

Blood, pain, tortue. Secrets, lies, slow tolls on your soul and sanity. Risking everything.

And why was she going back to risking everything? To all that hurt?

For a second, Clarke truly wondered in her haze of sleep.  _ Right _ , she thought.  _ Bellamy Blake. It’s always Bellamy fucking Blake _ .

Normally, Clarke tried to go as unnoticed as possible. This time she needed to be the exact opposite. Easy to spot, an easy target. In the slight chance that one of them watched. One of the hundred.

As she strolled down the streets of San Francisco towards the compound, she knew she did a good job. Between her gray plaid blazer, wicked eyeliner, and her golden hair blowing out behind her as she kept a brisk pace, she felt plenty of eyes on her. No one came to get her. 

Yet she continued with unwavering confidence. The climb along the side of the road up to the compound wore her down a bit and she didn’t appreciate the dirt on her brand-new doc martens, but as she stood at the carport door, she didn’t regret a thing. Last night she had thought she would regret that hour forever. 

Monty stepped out the side door of the carport and waved Clarke over. She gave him a quick hug and he pointed her in the direction of the stairs. Kane, Raven, Murphy, and Bellamy were so close. Before Clarke pushed the door to the apartment open, she heard their voices and stopped to listen. 

“There is a short window for this operation to work. You must keep the job in mind,” Kane was saying.

“How much longer can we wait?” Bellamy asked.

Raven’s wince was almost audible. “We only have two minutes left now. We have to go, Bellamy.”

“We have to wait.” Even outside the room, Clarke could feel the heavy tension. She grabbed the doorknob just as Bellamy said, “We can’t go without Clarke.”

Dramatic entrance unintended, Clarke stood frozen in the doorway. Kane and the three agents sat around the little dining table, staring at her with wide eyes. They all wore black and gray suits for stealth jobs. 

“You came back,” Bellamy said, awed. 

“I’m going to get changed. You can debrief me on the way.” Kane rose from his chair with an angry expression, but Clarke shut him down before she lost the nerve. “I promise you I will never give up what I know. I would rather die a hundred times than do so.”

“It’s not death that I worry about, Clarke. I am worried about how much tortue you can withstand.”

_ For them?  _ Clarke surveyed the other agent’s faces. Murphy gazed at Raven, unfocused as if Clarke’s reappearance was no surprise. He looked almost happy. Meanwhile, Raven intently watched Bellamy as he gaped at Clarke and Kane, eyes narrowed. Likely forming some theories. Looking at them, Clarke saw her family. She saw the best part of life.  _ For them,  _ “Whatever it takes. We do what we have to to survive.”

Rather than give Kane the chance to speak up again, she left and went to change. A breathable black shirt and leggings were already set out on her bed. Nothing in her room had changed. With a sigh, Clarke shrugged off her blazer and undershirt.

In the doorway, Bellamy coughed. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to--that’s new.” His eyes focused on her scar from Gabriel’s syringe on her neck. Then his gaze lowered the faint bruising around her right ribs that disappeared under the edge of her sports bra. 

Clarke almost told him what happened. The realization that Bellamy would blame himself for not staying at Starbucks a minute longer than he did stopped her. “You can’t go right back to a normal life from a life like this.”

“Right.” He stepped closer and reached a hand towards her only to leave it hovering midair. The sunlight flashed off something on his finger. “I-”

Clarke grabbed his hand and ignored him. “Your ring. The eight.”

“What about it?”   
She’d almost forgotten she could not tell him. Octavia still wanted distance and she knew where to find them if she wanted to. Luckily, Kane interrupted by calling them downstairs.

For some reason, Bellamy stayed in place, so Clarke stripped off her pants as well and slipped into her new clothes while he stared off at nothingness, not even noticing her. 

The guilt of not telling Bellamy about Octavia yet still tugged at her, but she let it pass and left with the three other agents as they always did. Bellamy driving, Clarke shotgun and Murphy and Raven messing around in the back. As they drove, Raven explained that Eligius wanted to assume control of the area hosting the 100 and Trikru. They were making the first move by stealing vital information. Then Trikru would come in to combat and ruin Eligius as a whole. Clarke’s stomach tightened. Bellamy would kill her if he found out she knew about Octavia the whole time, and working with Trikru brought them close.

They drove up outside of a large metal compound glaring in the sun, far in the hills outside the city. Eligius comprised of all ex-convicts. Some had been released, some broken out. Their leader, Diyoza, was highly wanted in the whole country. Her control of Eligius made her practically untouchable. 

A few burly guards stood outside a drop down door. Clarke frowned. “We’re going in the front door?”

“We’re going in as prisoners. This is a matter of breaking out,” Raven said, climbing out. Murphy and Bellamy followed, Clarke hesitantly leaving last. The guards came right towards them with automatic rifles raised. 

A woman with tattoos down her neck tilted her chin up at them. “Hands up.”

The four agents did as they were told. Before they could react, the other guards stepped forwards and clamped collars around all their necks. They dragged them inside, taking Clarke and Bellamy into one room and Raven and Murphy into the other. If they knew how to separate them, they knew more about them than Kane anticipated. Maybe even that they were coming. 

They had walked right into a trap. But wasn’t that the point?

A metal door sealed behind them and blended into the white walls. A single metal chair with restraints sat in the middle of the large room. Clarke had a feeling Kane asked about torture for a reason.

The woman with tattoos sat Bellamy down in the chair and clamped the metal restraints over his wrists, ankles, and neck. He jerked forwards when Raven and Murphy’s faint screams echoed from the other room. The other guard that entered with them, a thin man with long hair and a wild look in his eyes, gripped Clarke’s shoulder.

“Let’s get this done quick and easy, dear. My name is McCreary,” he drawled. “I need you to answer some questions.” The tattooed woman pulled out a knife. “What is his name?”

Time to employ evasion tactics. “Bellamy.”

McCreary laughed. “Alright then. His last name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Considering where you’ve been this couple days, I’d say you know exactly what his last name is, where he grew up, who his family is, all of that. So do be a dear and tell me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been home all week.”

“Then I’ll ask him instead.” McCreary’s smile turned more wicked and Clarke knew she’d made a mistake.

He asked Bellamy, and Bellamy said nothing. McCreary drew a remote from his pocket and hit a button. Clarke twitched and fell to the floor as electricity traveled from her metal collar through her body. She curled her knees to her chest, shaking and sweating, when it finally stopped.

“Who leads your group?” McCreary asked. Bellamy remained silent, but his eyes were fixed on Clarke.

Another shock arced through Clarke’s system. This time, she whimpered and pleaded for him to stop. Raven’s screams came through from the other room. Clarke understood the pain now.

“Why did your leader send you to break in?”

Bellamy looked deeply pained now. “If you hurt her more, I will never say a word.”

McCreary’s words were muddy through the haze of Clarke’s pain as he sent her more shocks. She clawed at the collar and convulsed uncontrollably. They knew that hurting her would draw answers from one of them. Both had dirty hands. Guilty by association. 

Bellamy’s continued silence displeased McCreary. “Kill him,” he ordered the tattooed woman. “We can get the answers from the others.” 

Clarke cleared her mind for a few seconds. “I’ll do anything. I’ll stop fighting. Just please, don’t kill him,” she begged with tears in her eyes.

“Then tell me his goddamn name.”

Bellamy shook his head. The woman raised the knife, about to slit his throat, and--

“Blake.” Clarke looked up at McCreary. “Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened in horror.  _ It was always Bellamy Blake. _

Luckily, Bellamy read her thoughts and used the split second of the surprise from the betrayal to scoot his chair back and slam the leg down into the woman’s foot. Clarke dove on McCreary and wrestled the remote from his hand. She slammed his head down to knock him out and kicked open the door. Bellamy ran right across the hall to the other room.

Raven and Murphy were gone.

Down the hall, six more Eligius guards appeared. Clarke tugged on Bellamy’s arm. “We have to go. We can come back with more people.”

Bellamy nodded and they sprinted for the car. Bullets hit the back as they sped back towards the city. It was unlikely that the Eligius would follow them and risk being caught.

“Clarke.” Bellamy’s jaw was tight and his eyes dark as he wove through the streets. “Why would you give up my name? I would have rather died than seen my family killed.”

“Your family? You mean Octavia? She can take care of herself.”

He pulled over into the closest parking spot and whirled on her. “How do you know about Octavia? And how did you know my name?”

“Octavia told me. I got kidnapped by the Primes and we shared a cell. Josephine helped us break out.”

“Where is she?”

Clarke bit her lip. “She didn’t want me to tell you.”

“So she is mad.” Bellamy fell back against his seat with a sigh. After a minute of silence, he drove off towards the compound. When they arrived, he brushed by everyone, even Kane, right to his room.

Clarke followed him and sat down next to him on his bed. She put a hand on his back as he dropped his face into his hands, elbows propped on his knees. 

“You will see Octavia soon. I promise. Saving Raven and Murphy is our current job.”

Bellamy straightened. “And who will risk their lives to rescue them?”

“For now, we will.”

He nodded. “I need a distraction tonight. Not just some fun, I need something--consuming.”

Clarke gave him a thoughtful look. If she weren’t already worried about a strain on their relationship, she might have suggested he actually deal with his feelings for once. However, she surprised herself nonetheless. Her concern for Bellamy had grown into something consuming for her. But it wasn’t just concern. She truly cared about him.

Bellamy’s dark eyes roamed over her slowly before catching her gaze again. Fear seized her chest. Maybe he did want to deal with his feelings tonight. Ones she hadn’t expected.  Clarke simply blinked at him. Suddenly, the mission ahead and her concern for Bellamy dissolved into much more dangerous thoughts as his hand slowly drifted towards her face.

  
  


  
  
  
  



	7. Cheetah Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Cheetah Tongue by the Wombats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be the last one. It isn't complete but I couldn't bring myself to write the rest. If I ever come back to finish this I will edit and finish this chapter.  
> Spoilers: Quick ending summary in case I don't finish  
> bellamy will fail at rescuing clarke but the primes will attack eligus and they escape during the fight. on their way home roan catches them and they bargain with him to help them take down eligus. trikru, azgeda, and other independent criminals-for-hire take down eligus and expose them to the police. also clarke and bellamy obviously get together during this. in the end, they move to new york to start a new life, take octavia along, and leave everything else behind.

Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s wrist, her heart pounding. “What are you thinking?”

He quickly drew it back. “You have blood in your hair. I thought you hurt your head.”

_ Liar.  _ “Oh.” She stood to go back to her own room, ignoring why her mind took her where it did as soon as Bellamy reached to touch her. It was definitely his words right before he did so. Not anything else. Besides, nothing would ever actually happen between them. He made sure of that. Clarke had been with plenty of people from the House below. Bellamy, however, had been with both Raven and Murphy before and them only. For some reason, for him Clarke was...untouchable. She liked to not consider his reasoning. 

“Wait.” Bellamy halted Clarke in the doorway. She turned and stared at him down. What now? He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” She already knew.

He winced. “Everything.”

Attempting to avoid any more confusing moments, Clarke went to her own room. After breaking the metal collar off her neck, she wanted nothing more than sleep and nothing less than facing her nightmares. She settled for some pampering and reading and started a hot bath. A nice soak with some bubbles and one of the classic novels Bellamy lent her relieved a little stress. Still avoiding sleeping, she put on some cute lacy underwear and one of Bellamy’s old shirts that she slept in before painting her nails black. 

Bellamy’s book and Bellamy’s shirt. Why did he have to be everywhere? 

Clarke waited for her nails to dry and sat in silence for a moment. Sometimes she needed to sit and think about nothing. Just let memories wash over. She sat forwards, her slight relaxation gone, at the sound of a gasp and heavy panting from the other side of the thin walls. 

Bellamy burst into her room before Clarke could go to his. He stood in the doorway, flushed and shirtless, still panting. “I don’t know why I came here, I had a nightmare and I-”

“Come over.” Clarke patted the space on the bed beside her. When she had nightmares, she always wanted to see Bellamy and assumed it was the same for him. Likely because he happened to be present in every one. 

For a brief moment Bellamy hesitated. He then settled in beside Clarke and leaned back against her excess of pillows and looked her up and down. Clarke thought he was going to comment about her nails or underwear, and she really didn’t need anymore-

“Is that my shirt?”

Oh, right. “Yes, you lent it to me a while ago and I never gave it back. It’s soft.” She pinched the gray cotton between her fingers. “Thanks, by the way.”

He shook his head as if to snap back to focus. “Yeah, uh--Can I stay here? Only for tonight.”

“Sure.” Clarke lifted the covers and tucked herself in, Bellamy doing the same. “Just for tonight.”

They were asleep in seconds. Atom’s smile and Josephine’s face and Bellamy’s blood still haunted Clarke’s nightmare. But only a nightmare, singular. Being tucked into Bellamy’s arms helped.

“Hey, Princess. Done yet?” Clarke turned her head to see Bellamy looking over her shoulder with two coffees in hand. He set one down on the table in front of her. “I spiked it.”

“Thanks, and yes.” She rolled out the plans for him to see. The past three days were spent planning and accounting for every possible detail with Monty and Kane. If everything went according to training, Raven and Murphy would have taken any information they could get or any opportunity to steal some. If they were alive. 

_ They are alive,  _ Clarke reminded herself.  _ They have to be.  _

Bellamy echoed her thoughts. “They’ll be okay, Clarke. They’re strong.”

“I know. I just-” She sighed. “Aren’t you tired of this cycle of mistakes and kidnappings and rescues and new plans?”

“Not with you as my partner in crime. I guess I’m guilty of being too used to this.”

Clarke hummed. “Guilty by association. We’re a lethal combination now, Bellamy.”

Harper, who had come over to fetch Monty for whatever their morning “business” was, snorted. “Get a room, you two.” Monty gave them a quick nod and hurried after Harper. 

“Clarke, Bellamy, sit down. This could take a while.” Kane took Monty’s seat and spread some papers in front of them as they sat. “I’ve put the finishing touches on the plan.”

As he explained their course of action, Clarke found herself both more reassured that they could rescue Raven and Murphy yet also a bit worried about her role. She’d been so distraught in the past few days, she wasn’t she was up to it. On the contrary, Bellamy sat back with crossed arms and a blank expression the whole time. 

When Kane finished, Bellamy said, “Did you tell us this would take awhile because that was a joke and the real plan is a lot more detailed, or because you knew there’s no way in hell I’ll agree to this?”

Clarke tried to keep her breathing even as she walked down the cool metal hallway. Step forwards, step forwards, breath in, breath out. She took note of everything this time. The walls and floor were all solid metal with a few operating outlets and occasional windowless doors. Rather than a flat ceiling, piping and vents ran above the hall. Each of the guards walking behind her was armed with an automatic rifle, a taser, and undoubtedly a knife. She was unarmed. So was Kane.

The guards led the two of them to a room aways down the hall. Instead of a solid white torture chamber, Clarke found herself in a comfortable room with plush seating and a picture window looking out to the woods. A heavily pregnant woman sat on one of the couches facing them with a steaming mug in hand. She gestured for the guards to sit Clarke and Kane down on the couch opposite her.

“I’m Diyoza, I run this place. As you probably know.” She took a sip of her drink. “You wanted to have a chat with me, Kane?”

Kane cleared his throat. “Yes. Your people kidnapped two of my associates recently. I would like to offer you a trade. John Murphy and Raven Reyes for Clarke Griffin.”

“And why should I accept that?” Diyoza sized up Clarke. “She doesn’t look like much.”

“A lot of people have been looking for her.”

Diyoza tilted her head side to side, thinking. She snapped her fingers and the guards left the room. They re-entered dragging Murphy and Raven with them. “It’s a deal, then.”

Clarke held back a gasp when the guards stood her up where she could see Murphy and Raven. Murphy had little obvious physical damage besides some bruising on his face, but he kept wincing and rolling his head around. Raven, however, had collapsed to the floor. One of her legs lay completely limp. 

The guards yanked Clarke out of the room and shoved her into another one across the hall before she could react. All the walls were white with a single chair again. This time, Clarke was strapped into the chair. They clamped another collar around her neck and sealed her in the room alone. 

She trusted Bellamy to do his part. It would be okay. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for supporting my work! i truly hope i can get back to writing this someday.


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